


One small change

by Argentum_Industires



Series: Critmas 2018 [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Caleb is basically a Jane Austen protagonist, F/M, Introspection, Nott has stolen all our hearts, Other, Unfulfilled emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 13:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17204321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argentum_Industires/pseuds/Argentum_Industires
Summary: Caleb Widogast has had a single plan since he got his sanity back.He doesn't account for a small goblin tucking herself into his heart.





	One small change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stuff_and_nonsense](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuff_and_nonsense/gifts).



> So, uh, I realised about 6 hours from the deadline that maybe I was only supposed to write one piece? Maybe not. I'm slightly confused. Anyway, I wrote more than one, and had fun doing it, so stuff_and_nonsense, here's your third Critmas piece.
> 
> Never thought I'd write this pairing in this way, but hey, it's allowed me to break out the "protagonist is unwilling to confront feelings because ew, emotions but wait now he has to" card and so I'm happy.

Caleb Widogast had had a single goal since getting back his sanity.

One motivation, day in, day out. It flashed in his mind every time he sparked a flame from his fingertips, every time he set up his string to protect their camp, every time he laid his head on the ground and woke up the next morning, Nott curled into his side.

Get his parents back. Undo the mistakes of the past. Save the soul he damned the moment he walked into Trent Ikithon’s class.

There were options for achieving this, of course, but none had the precision he needed. Wish, for example, contained too many possible variables, everything from the genie’s mood to the specific grammar of the phrase could influence the final results.

There was one solution, though. A choice whispered in mages’ colleges, stored deep in cavernous libraries, carried across dark alleyways, muttered around flickering campfires to those who could tend the right ear. It had taken years for him to build it, piece by piece. Retrieve the right knowledge, make the right pact, find the right allies.

Along the way, he just might have found a family. Starting with her, the little goblin with clever hands, who stayed by his side no matter what. Side by side, running, stealing, scheming, always together. She built herself a place in his heart, tucked in deep. Every time she made a terrible joke, or concocted a crazy plan that may possibly work, lied unconvincingly or told a heart-wrenching truth, those feelings burrowed deeper. Found root and blossomed in his silence, in his glances and awkward half expressions that needed no development when spoken between them.

If his plan worked, he’d never meet her. He’d never end up in the jail, never break out, never travel together, never meet up with the Nein and heal together. His one shot at a better life would take away everything.

It would have to be worth it.

That’s what he thought, gathering all the materials he needed for the one shot he could wanted, fuelled by the strength of a future where she would be with the Nein, and he wouldn’t. One small variable changed. They could be perfectly happy strangers.

**

His mind stopped planning the moment she hit the ground.

The fight had been going their way right until the coven of hags had burst out of the marsh.

Beauregard had taken one of the five on alone, Fjord and Jester focused firepower and lollipop bashing on another, Caduceus trying his best to boost the fractured party while Yasha engaged two others. Caleb himself was slinging spells with the best of them, concentrating singularly on the combat, only a sliver of focus on the erratic movements of his green partner as she dashed in and out of cover to take pot-shots.

Right until he heard a scream, a pitch he’d prayed to unhearing gods every night he’d never hear, as her small body was flung across the battlefield, landing on the ground with a thud, unmoving.

It took him a precious second to understand what had happened, seeing a hag appear out of thin air from where Nott had just been crouched, blood dripping off elongated claws. A cackle of glee pealed from the grin that contorted her gruesome face as she licked it off.

Nott wasn’t moving.

Jester was fighting to be by her side as he dashed across the distance, uncaring of any possible attacks that might come his way. He should have known by the shaking of the blue cleric’s shoulders that something was wrong, far too wrong.

Nott wasn’t breathing.

His brilliant, beautiful, bastard mind knew that the Nein didn’t have any diamonds before Jester even sunk down on her knees next to them. He remembered how they’d used them, a month back, how they hadn’t had the time to restock since they’d been on the chase that led them to the marsh. They’d been riding the high of several missions ending well, of working cohesively as a team, as a family. They were the fucking Mighty Nein.

Hubris and heroism never mixed well.

As the battle raged on around them, as Jester gently cradled the face of the one true friend, true loved one Caleb had had in so long, her small body grew cold against the warmth of his hands.

He thought about the nevers, looking up at the flash of a witch bolt flying.

Never seeing his family again. Never getting revenge. Never living in his home, fetching fresh water from the well every morning. Never smiling at the local bread-maker, never seeing the warmth of their smile back.

He glanced down again at her too-still face.

Never seeing Nott’s smile again. Never watching her eyes dart across the room, lighting up at the sight of something sparkling. Never hearing her voice pipe up with brilliant and brilliantly insane ideas. Never feeling her tucked up by his side again. Never telling her how she was a part of his heart, how she’d pieced back together his lost soul.

His hands pulled out the far too brittle parchment, and he cast the spell.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, Kudos and Comments feed my soul


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